Hi!
In this issue:
A lil intro
The Friendship Series Part 2, the story of how I met Kelley
10 Things to Fill You Up
Welcome to the second installment of The Friendship Series, a shameless exploration of making new friends at this creaky old stage in my adult life. (I’m 34). In short, it’s a lil bit sweet, a lil bit scary.
In Part 1, I wrote about the beauty of having a best friend, the relationship with mine, and the acceptance of that friendship’s ultimate demise. The rest of the series will explore how I’ve met new friends. If that sounds like awkward ground to tread – to write about new friendships before they’ve even been cemented – that’s probably because it is. But here goes nothin’! Anything for the craft, amiright?
As mentioned last time, making new friends as an adult is sadly a less frequent occurrence. It takes more intention, humility, and more generous and brazen compliment-giving than ever thought possible. Ha! I’ve just noticed some how-to-make-friends listicles will tell you to do that – to dole out an “I love your shirt!” wherever you go. I’m devastated to share, I think it takes more than that.
We talk about how when we’re young, we make friends more easily because we spend a high volume of our time with people who are stuck in certain spaces with us. Organized blocks of time like school, activities, and camp create consistency and breed intimacy. In these spaces, you may find you become friends with people you don’t even necessarily have much in common with, the way you inevitably start to like a song that gets a ton of radio play.
But now that we’re floating around in the adult-osphere, and during a pandemic no less, how the hell do we bump into one another, and hang on for that matter?
I’m interested in how we cross paths with new people. What does it take to bridge the gap from acquaintance to friend? How can you tell you like someone before knowing them and how do you make a move to find out? Welp, I’ve done some digging, and I have the answers. Just kidding, I still know so very little about this life, but here I go seeking, searching nonetheless.
Kelley
I didn’t notice her on our way in. Of course I’d looked around the restaurant as Andrew and I followed the host to our table against the wall in the middle of two other tables, in that way you do when taking stock of any public space you enter. A swift scan of the room was all it took to see what kinds of people were there, whether I knew any of them, what they were wearing. But somehow I hadn’t looked directly to our left.
It wasn’t until midway through our meal that the couple entered my awareness. They raised their glasses and thanked us for the cocktails that Andrew, a whiskey rep, had sent each table. Andrew responded with something friendly in their direction while I was attempting to extinguish my mouth – ablaze from a spicy vegan taco – with an also-spicy cucumber jalapeno margarita, which of course only amplified the heat.
I don't know how the conversation seeded and blossomed, which is funny because it’s the kind of thing I’d overthink in hindsight while pondering how anyone meets anyone new, ever. Friendly conversations, though, can fizzle as quickly as they break out, and more often than not anti-climax in a friendly wave as one party departs: “Have a good night.” The gesture that pushed it over the edge into something more was when the boyfriend at the table stood up to face us, waved some dollar bills around and said, “I’m going to the jukebox, any song requests?” Something was happening.
It’s rare, in Sacramento, to meet new people like this. Meeting folks via crossover friend groups happens all the time, but a cold meeting? It was almost unheard of. The feeling was exotic, like we were thousands of miles away in a cafe in a Spanish coastal village, and our ears were pricking up at the sound of not just Americans, but like-minded Americans.
To be open in this way, it was clear they were from out of town. Discernible, too, was that they were sweet and smart and humble. How, you ask? I have no idea. It’s all subliminal information, imparted by her funky earrings, his cool yet unassuming band tee. It was also in the way they carried themselves – confident enough to make a move, yet unobtrusive with the elegant, light touch of the jukebox move.
“Umm, gosh, it’s hard to think of a song they might have…” Andrew and I said, searching each other’s eyes frantically as if we might find our Spotify search histories there. We were bombing the interaction. We made some joke and laughed impotently, but ultimately failed to offer any musical suggestions.
Later, the boyfriend went to the restroom. The girl sat quietly alone, body language open and amiable. “I think she wants to talk,” Andrew whispered as he leaned toward me. I laughed, “How can you tell?” He shrugged, but I trusted his social intuition. “Okay, yeah, let’s do it,” I said, my mouth still smoking with Serrano fumes. A thrill coursed through me from the sheer rarity that there was a stranger I was actually interested in talking to.
The comely strangers’ names were Kelley and Luke. She was an artist and he was a teacher. It turned out they had indeed recently moved to town during covid, from San Francisco, like Andrew. We spent 10 ludicrous minutes talking about neighborhoods and landmarks and trying in earnest to come together on one literal site of common ground in the city. We landed on a few intersections, nodding in agreement and shared experience. The conversation pivoted then to coffee shops and restaurants we each liked in Sacramento, and what we do for work. All was clinched with the exchange of Instagram handles.
When I checked out her Instagram that night, I was pulled in by her art, which is strangely beautiful and thought-provoking. The following week I reached out to see if she’d be interested in meeting for coffee. I was nervous, but in a what’s-the-worst-that-can-happen kind of way.
We met at a coffee shop on a weekday morning and, well…it’s funny to write about getting to know someone. The process of trying, though, was nice! We talked about our family dynamics, relationships, what we did for work and how we both were in the process of going in a different direction. She even opened my eyes to the accessibility of grad school. Apparently there are fully funded programs? How did I not know this? Eventually it was revealed that we were more or less the same age, that she wanted kids and was weeks away from her wedding.
Of course it takes more than that to know someone. But it is interesting to me how we met, how I felt us click, and the potential to be able to see one another and feel something resembling closeness in a short amount of time. First impressions are so mysterious – about micro-perceptions and intonations and how much you’re able to let go and relax into being perceived. Like so many of our bizarro human experiences, it’s a dance that’s both complex and instinctive.
Some of the nuances it requires have been dulled by the pandemic, but as we know very well, the desire to connect is in our nature. Any rustiness or clumsiness will be forgiven by the right person. At one point, I found myself tumbling into a confession of what a hard time Andrew and I were going through with the loss of his brother. I laughed self consciously, fearing the overindulgence of being too much, too soon. Her reception was soft and human. And when it comes to friendship, that’s all you can ask.
Something about her thoughtful disposition reminded me of the kinds of friends you make in college – the way you connect over ideas through some unexplainable gravitational pull; establish relationships based on intellectual connection in addition to happenstance and proximity.
Recently I pitched her a project to collaborate on, and she was into it! The idea is for her to add her visual magic to an essay I wrote last year, and create a big ole mixed media project out of it. I also told her I’d be writing about her in this newsletter, which was such a strange message to send, but thankfully she was into that, too.
These entries aren’t meant to be didactic or instructive. But if there’s one takeaway from this experience, I suppose it’s this: stay open and – if you feel a spark – put yourself out there. You never know what kinds of kindred spirits might be in your midst, wolfing down tacos and open to connection, too.
This recipe for Lemony Kale and White Bean Soup that I’ve made twice recently, and shook up my menu of nonstop summer salads. I found it via Afroyoga’s recipe bank and it’s so delicious, especially with a toasty slice of good bread.
This week’s issue of Girls’ Night In, curated by nonfiction writer, Larissa Pham. (This section will forever be a place to celebrate and discover other newsletters!)
Image via: Girls’ Night In This week’s episode of Girl Boss Radio, “The Future of Content Creators and How to Evolve with Rachel Nguyen,” a radical interview with one of my favorite YouTubers. Nguyen is known for her cinematic, evocative video editing style. I honestly don’t know how she’s able to document her life the way she does, while still appearing to be in the moment. I guess the camera becomes an appendage when you’ve been a person on the internet for that long (she’s been blogging 17 years, one of the OGs).
Image via: Girl Boss Radio Anyway, it was fascinating to learn her creative process and to just listen to two friends chat, since she and Puno, the new Girl Boss Radio host, are pals. Give it a listen to hear Nguyen’s thoughts on the content industry and to reinvigorate your drive to create.
This guide by digital creator @sighswoon on “how to heal heartbreak.” I’m not personally going through heartbreak, but found this guide, which she created a couple years ago but re-shared recently, to be really comprehensive and insightful.
“Unread Messages,” Sally Rooney’s recent short story for The New Yorker, which I finally got around to reading the other night when I couldn’t sleep. It’s a perfect bedtime read actually, since so many of the scenes take place at night, when the character is impulsively scrolling through her phone and pining for connection.
Image via: The New Yorker The UN climate report, somehow even more grim, definitive and depressing than previous reports. This episode of The Daily was helpful in understanding its implications, and anecdotally I’ve enjoyed Sarah Miller’s “Fire Season” series in her newsletter, which speaks to the daily anxiety of living in a smokey or, at the very least, hazy existence.
The perfect fanny pack by Girlfriend Collective in the color, “Quartz.”
This TikTok that normalizes “not knowing what the fuck you’re doing at 30 years old.” When I was 30, I also reached a point (Saturn’s return? Jupiter’s somersault? Who knows.) where I felt lost and restless.
At my job, I felt like I was one of the only ones who didn’t get all my fulfillment from work, which led to feeling like an outsider, like I wasn’t fitting into the achievement model. I love that now there is sooo much TikTok content about this very experience and the toxic effects of capitalism. Currently, I feel more clear about what I value and want, but I’m just so glad 30-year-old me can have some retroactive vindication in this universe!
The @cinemamonamourpage Instagram, a page with iconic and/or expressive stills from movies. I specifically loved this frame from Richard Linklater’s “Before Sunset.” I think the “Before” trilogy hits for a lot of millennials, and for good reason.
I watched the first one as a young adult and the latter two as I aged. It was such a treat to revisit characters as they age with you, and not in that compulsive Hollywood sequel kind of way. Rather, each installment felt like it arrived and progressed organically. Anyway, made me want to rewatch them!
The elastic waistbanded bliss that is the Museum of Peace and Quiet collection. My drawstring shorts just arrived yesterday and my tummy has found peace indeed!
That’s not to say I’m exclusively stuck in the sweatpants-ization of covid times; I’ve also enjoyed actually getting dressed here and there. But how great is it that dressing for comfort now goes beyond athleisure.
See you next time for Part 3! In the meantime, you can catch me on Instagram.
Thanks for reading,
P.S. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. xx
This one has it all, risk, friendship and spicy tacos. One stop shop
Very nice! Well written!